


Aligned, Stardust Remix

by ZedElla (Leviarty)



Series: Aligned [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4401464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leviarty/pseuds/ZedElla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These were the things that Rodney McKay knew to be true – only some of the things, mind you, because science is proven and disproven so often that he couldn’t be bothered to make a list of such things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aligned, Stardust Remix

**Author's Note:**

> Half the length of the original, with twice the emotion. Also, you have no idea how much self control it took to no post this within minutes of finishing. But I wanted to make you wait a little longer :)
> 
> Do people remix their own works? Is that a thing? Because I did.

These were the things that Rodney McKay knew to be true – only some of the things, mind you, because science is proven and disproven so often that he couldn’t be bothered to make a list of such things.

1\. He knew that he was difficult; difficult to work with, be friends with, be romantically involved with. He knew this, even if he acted like he didn’t.

2\. He knew that John Sheppard was his best friend, and that despite all of his shortcomings, that he was ranked pretty high up on John’s list of friends.

3\. He knew that the Ancients made mistakes, and 4. he knew that he could solve some, if not all of those mistakes. He’d helped to defeat the Wraith and the Replicators, two things that the Ancients had failed so epically to do. And yes, sometimes he let that knowledge get the best of him, let it go to his head.

5\. He knew that he hated flying, but also loved flying. He hated commercial planes, hate helicopters, hated all those flying deathtraps. He was kind of okay with space ships because it didn’t really feel like flying. But he loved the Puddlejumpers, or, more accurately, he learned to love them. Because John loved them, and watching John fly was like watching a sunset over the ocean (even if he couldn’t explain why). And when John taught him how to fly, Rodney understood. He understood why he loved flying so much, because it was calm and exciting all at once, because he was in complete control, because the Jumper hung onto his thoughts and obeyed selflessly.

6\. He knew that he didn’t love Sam Carter, that he perhaps lusted after her, because she was a beautiful, intelligent woman, but he knew it was nothing more than that, that they were merely friends with a side of inappropriate flirting.

7\. And he knew that he did love John Sheppard, even if he would never say it, because:

8\. He knew that John Sheppard was very, very straight.

Which was what made the whole situation so outrageous.

Because having a kid with John? Felt like a punch to the gut. The universe had a sense of humor, and it was out to get Rodney McKay. He would bet the universe also dangled slabs of meat over the heads of hungry lions, only to throw a head of lettuce into the cage.

*

But John was taking it all remarkably well. Rodney suspected that it hadn’t really hit him yet, what having a kid would mean. Rodney wasn’t even sure it had really hit him yet either, but 9. he knew that he would make a _terrible_ parent.

But that didn’t seem to be any concern to John. Nothing seemed to concern him, not where the baby would sleep, not who would take care of him, not what would happen to him if something happened to _them_ , not how they would explain to the child that they were his parents, but they weren’t together. It was all Rodney could think about, that and how royally fucked up this kid was going to be with him for a parent.

But John, it seemed, had all the answers. The baby would sleep in John’s room, because he was, more often than not, actually in his room (unlike McKay who seldom slept, and even less often slept in his room), and already a small daycare had been set up for the other children on Atlantic, so they wouldn’t have to worry about taking care of him during duty hours, and John assured him that they would figure out everything else in time. Like he wasn’t worried at all.

And he was certain that he was the last human John would want to raise a kid with (certain, but he wouldn’t put it on the list of things he knew to be true, because John’s got enemies), but if that was the case, John didn’t give any indication of it, didn’t complain, didn’t show that he would rather have a kid with literally anyone else.

Rodney almost thought things might work out.

*

Then it all fell apart. This kid, this adorable kid that was somehow his, was sick. Dying. Falling apart at a cellular level.

Rodney thought his heart might give out.

What had he done to the universe to deserve this? To have receive this bizarre, impossible gift, only to have it ripped from his hands before he could even appreciate it.

And he thought it might destroy them. Him and Sheppard, their whole friendship, everything they’ve built. He didn’t think he could survive losing that too.

“I don’t want him to die,” he said, once they were alone in the safety of John’s room. “He’s only been alive for eight days, but I don’t want him to die.” And of course John didn’t want to lose him either. Rodney couldn’t help but wonder how different things would be if they really were a couple, but then he shook it off, because the end result would be the same. It would destroy them, and it wasn’t something he could bear to think about.

He returned to his own quarters before he could break, because he and John might be best friends, but he’s unable to be so completely exposed.

There was a knock at his door a while later; he silently told it to open, and John came in. Rodney didn’t have to ask, because he could read it all over his face. He doesn’t want to be alone. Rodney was grateful; it might take some prying to admit, but he didn’t want to be alone either.

John fell asleep on his couch, but Rodney hardly slept a wink.

*

By some miracle, he was able to solve yet another Ancient mistake.

“I never should have doubted you, Rodney,” John said, bouncing the baby in his arms.

“You doubted me?” It might have hurt more if he hadn’t doubted himself for a while there.

“Well, it’s behind us now. Little Elijah is perfectly healthy once more, and I couldn’t be happier.”

Rodney felt something in his chest that he couldn’t quite identify. Elation, maybe. Because even he and John were nothing more than friends, John was happy with the unlikely situation they’d found themselves in, and if he harbored any resentment that it was Rodney he was stuck in this mess with? Well, he was doing a remarkable job of hiding it. “When did we agree on Elijah?”

“You don’t like it?”

No, he liked it. He didn’t remember it being suggested, but he liked it. It was fitting, he thought. “I approve.”

They fall asleep, shoulder to shoulder, in John’s bed, with tiny, perfect Elijah lying across their chests.

*

Rodney read the same line of text at least a dozen times before finally hurling himself out of bed and across the hall. He knocked on John’s door, and silently begged it to open.

“What’s the matter, Rodney?” he asked, because John was uniquely capable of reading his every emotion, even when he couldn’t read himself.

“Did you… did you want this?” he asked. And then he wanted to slam his face into the wall because eloquence? Not his strong suit. He reconsidered his whole action plan and wondered if just planting one on John was as terrible of an idea as it sounded. It would certainly get him answers, though perhaps not the ones he wanted. At least the other way he could keep from having his heart ripped out by his best friend.

He babbled about Ancient technology, and the mental link, and of course he knew he was babbling, but finally the question finally finds it’s way out. “Have you ever thought about having a kid, specifically with me, before all this happened?”

“Rodney,” John said, and there was warning in his voice that said ‘don’t go there’, but Rodney didn’t care.

“Just answer the question!”

“Yes, okay? Yes. I’ve thought about it. Every time I see you with Torren, or when your sister brings Madison to visit.” And John looked like a weight had been lifted, but also like he’d just committed a horrible sin.

Rodney felt his jaw drop. “You never said. You never said anything.”

“Rodney, you know I’m not.” He stopped, and Rodney didn’t know, didn’t have any idea what he was going to say next. “I’m not the kind of guy to force someone into a relationship they don’t want just because there’s a kid in the picture.”

Rodney heard it clearly, but it played on a loop in his head for an impossibly long time before it registered. “Relationship.” There were a thousand other things that he wanted to say, but he had no idea what any of them were.

“Lots of people raise their kids separately. It’s not a big deal.”

“That’s not-” Rodney shook his head. This simply wouldn’t do. It was a big deal, a _huge_ deal, but Rodney, for all his genius, didn’t know if he could fit all he wanted to say into words. He took a step toward John - though, maybe that step was more like a leap – and brought their lips together. It was rougher than necessary, rougher than he meant, and he’d probably have bruised lips tomorrow. John let out a yelp of surprise.

Unless he’d completely misread the situation, in which case he might be lucky to walk away without a broken nose.

He started to pull back, to reconsider his actions, but John’s arms were wrapped around his waist, holding him steady, close. Their lips moved together, in perfect synchronicity.

Rodney pulled away, but their foreheads stayed pressed together. “That’s not what I want. I don’t want to be two separate entities raising a kid. I want it to be us. Together.” But once again doubt pecked at him. “Unless that’s not what you want.” Not that John had given him any reason to doubt, but this was just one of the lesser known aspects of Rodney’s deeply flawed personality.

John leaned forward, his lips soft against Rodney’s, but his arms sturdy around him. “It’s what I want.”


End file.
